


This Ain't The Garden Of Eden

by flawedamythyst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-20
Updated: 2007-09-20
Packaged: 2018-10-16 02:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10562247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: Sam and Dean run into an old friend of Sam's from Stanford. Dean has issues.





	1. Chapter 1

To tell the truth, Dean had kinda forgotten that Sam had had friends who weren't hunters or psychic freaks once. It wasn't that he'd forgotten that Sam had left or that he'd spent four years being someone else and living another life which Dean knew nothing about. He wasn't about to forget being left behind like that, not when Sam still got that pained, regretful look on his face whenever they drove through a college town. It was just that when he thought about it, he thought about how Sam wasn't with him, not who he might have been with instead, unless it was to wonder about Jessica, and what sort of Sam she'd known. The fact that he must have had other friends or that he must have got to know more people than just Jessica had never really crossed Dean's mind since they'd driven away from St Louis, leaving Becky and Zack behind, while Sam told him that he'd never really fitted in at Stanford.

So, Dean had been completely blind-sided when Sam suddenly turned at the call of his name in a shabby, Ohio bar, his face lighting up like a beacon. The guy who'd called his name looked just as happy to see Sam, engulfing him in a massive hug that made Dean jumpy. No one should be that close to Sam except him, and yeah, maybe he was a bit possessive, but he figured he was entitled after spending twelve hours watching his brother's corpse cool.

"Jason!" said Sam, sounding annoyingly happy, and Dean had to clench his jaw hard to stop himself showing the full force of his emotions on his face. They were meant to be celebrating, after all, chilling out, having a few beers and a relaxed evening for once after exorcising three of the demons that had crawled out of hell. They'd found this bar that had everything they needed for a good evening - pool table, cheap beer, even a booth in a dark corner for later, when Dean had got enough alcohol into Sam for him to forget his usual, stupid, 'hands off in public' rule. They were finally in a state that wouldn't lynch them for a couple of unsubtle gropes in a bar, so long as they didn't actually tell anyone they were brothers and, god-damnit, Dean had been looking forward to it, and now this stupid Jason had turned up to ruin it. What kind of name was Jason anyway? Stupid Californian name, that's what.

Sam turned to Dean with a big grin, and Dean quickly tried to wipe his thoughts off his face. "Jason was my roommate in freshman year," he said, then turned back to Jason. "This is my brother, Dean." Dean sighed. There went his plans to molest Sam in a dark corner.

"Hi," said Jason, holding his hand out to Dean, but not looking entirely pleased at the introduction. Dean wondered wearily what Sam had told him about his family in the aftermath of the huge fight that had ended with him leaving for Stanford.

"Good to meet you," he lied, gripping Jason's hand perhaps a little tightly. Jason grimaced slightly until Dean let go.

"Man, it's good to see you again," he said to Sam, obviously deciding to ignore Dean for now. Dean hoped like hell he was about to say that he had to rush off somewhere, maybe Antarctica. "You know, Tony and Angela are meeting me here in a moment - they live here now, you know. They'll be so stoked to see you." Dean resisted the temptation to bang his head against the wall.

 

 

****

 

 

Two hours later, he was in hell. In fact, he really hoped that crossroads demon bitch wasn't watching this, because he couldn't imagine any worse torture than spending an eternity like this. Well, ok, he could, and no doubt in ten months, two weeks, five days and...he glanced at his watch, ten hours, he'd have first hand experience of it, but for now, this was bad enough. Tony and Angela had been really pleased to see Sam. _Really_ pleased. Tony had hugged Sam as if...well, as if he'd been stabbed in the back and was bleeding out in his arms, and Angela had actually had the nerve to kiss his cheek. When Sam had introduced Dean, they'd both blinked, then given him a careful, cool look, which made Dean desperate to know what Sam had said about him, and at the same time, kinda glad that he didn't know.

Since then, there'd just been a lot of alcohol, and talking, and laughing, and fond memories, none of which Dean had joined in with. Well, except the alcohol. The alcohol was pretty much all that was stopping him from just going with his original plan for the evening and pressing Sam hard up against the booth partition so that he could ravish his mouth. That and the way Sam looked suddenly so much happier, and more relaxed - for the first time in months he'd lost the little frown line on his forehead that Dean had got so used to it was almost a shock to see it gone.

He slouched further down in his seat as they all laughed again about some stupid college thing he didn't understand and wondered if he should get another beer. Sam had shot him a warning glare the last time he'd gone up to the bar though - no doubt worrying that Dean would get drunk and show him up in front of his friends, and Dean couldn't be bothered to have that argument with him, even if it was a silent one conducted entirely through narrowed eyes and raised eyebrows.

Instead, he glanced over at the pool table, which was empty, and then flicked his eyes round the bar. Was there anyone here he could get to play him? They didn't really need the money right now, and it probably wouldn't be a good idea to hustle with Sam's goody-goody college friends in the same room anyway, but he could use a good game to distract him. There was no one who looked like they'd be up for a game with a stranger though, and Dean gritted his teeth in frustration.

"I'll play you," said Jason, suddenly. Dean turned to look at him with a blink of surprise. Jason smiled, and for a blond, Californian jock, it looked almost predatory. "Unless you're too pussy."

Dean snorted, then glanced at Sam, who was watching them both with a faintly puzzled look. He twitched his eyebrows at Sam, and Sam gave an imperceptible nod, but Dean could see the warning in his eyes. _Don't fuck about with my friend._ Dean turned back to Jason and grinned, standing up. "Alright then," he said, "Bring it on."

Jason broke, and it was a good one, sending balls all over the table, and two into the back pockets. Dean smiled grimly to himself. At least this wasn't going to be a complete walk over.

"So," said Jason, lining up his next shot. "How is Sam really? He seems kinda stressed."

Dean thought about telling him to mind his own business, then remembered Sam's warning look. "He's okay," he said as Jason sunk another ball. "It's been a rough couple of years."

"Yeah?" said Jason, inviting Dean to expand on that, but no way was Dean going to go into the painful details of all the shit that had gone down since Sam had been at Stanford. Jason messed up his next shot, misjudging the angle so that it bounced off the edge of the pocket. Dean eyed the table for the best shot to take, suddenly wanting this game to be over so that Jason would stop interrogating him.

"You know, it really surprised us when Sam took off with you after Jess's death," said Jason as Dean bent down to take his shot. "Even more so when he didn't come back."

"Yeah?" said Dean, only half listening as he tipped in a long shot to the corner pocket.

"Well, he never really talked about his family at all," said Jason, leaning on his cue. "And when he did, it wasn't exactly complimentary."

That got Dean's attention, dragging his gaze away from considering angles. Jason was still looking down at the table.

"To be honest," said Jason, talking slightly slowly as if not sure he should be saying this, "we thought there'd been some abuse or something."

Dean, who'd been all lined up for his shot, started, then glared at Jason. Abuse? Was he just fucking with Dean, trying to mess up his shot? "Sam ever say anything to justify that crap?" he asked.

Jason had the grace to look embarrassed, which at least meant he knew he was stepping over the line. "Not directly," he said, and Dean relaxed and bent back over the table. "But he told us he didn't get on with your Dad, and he does have more than the average amount of scars."

Dean finally managed to take his shot, getting the ball in easily and leaving the cue ball in the perfect position for his next shot. "You don't know jack shit about our family," he said. "Sam was just freaking clumsy as a kid, and we weren't exactly wrapped in cotton wool."

Jason shifted awkwardly, and Dean took his next shot, still trying to get this game over and done with. "Still seems odd that he hasn't gone back to college yet," he said. "Everyone knew how much he wanted to get to Law School."

Dean shrugged and sank another ball. "Things change," he said, ambiguously.

"Not something like that," argued Jason. "Sam told me once that if he could have any wish, it would be to have a house and a family and to," he hesitated again, as Dean bent down for his next shot, "and to make sure he never ended up like his family."

Dean's shot went wild and sent the white down a side pocket. _Stupid,_ he berated himself, _you knew that's what Sam wanted._ Knowing it didn't take the sting away though, now that all Sam was ever likely to have was a string of endless motel rooms, with Dean his own family - hell, the only person he knew. He tried to tell himself that what Sam wanted had changed since he'd known Jason, and if he wanted to go back to Stanford, it wasn't like Dean was forcing him to stay. Except that there was no way Sam would leave him now, however much he wanted to, not when they could both feel Dean's months, weeks, minutes counting down. And, really, even after Dean had gone, it was probably too late for Sam. He had ended up like his family - there was no escaping that. Even if the visions and all that psychic shit had ended with the demon, Sam was still never going to be able to fit into a normal life.

Jason was looking satisfied as he took his shot, and Dean glared at him. What right did this kid have to judge his family or the way he lived? "You always this rude to your friends' families?" Time to cut the bullshit.

Jason knocked in another ball. "Only when I think they're hurting them," he said frankly.

Dean laughed, but it sounded pretty bitter, even to him. "I'm not hurting Sam," he said. "He's my brother - I've been taking care of him since before you were born."

"Well, maybe that's the problem," said Jason. "Maybe it's time you stopped 'taking care' of him and let him make his own choices." He missed his shot though, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Time to finish this game and show this bastard that you didn't mess with the Winchesters.

"You ever seen Sam let someone else make a decision for him?" he asked, sending one of his remaining balls flying into a pocket.

"No," admitted Jason, "but I know when he first came to Stanford he seemed scared of something. Whenever his phone rang, he'd check Caller ID before answering - the only times he didn't answer were when you called."

Dean gritted his teeth, remembering how frustrating it had been to always get Sam's voicemail (almost as frustrating as it had been to always get Dad's, but he tried not to think about that), but refused to let Jason put him off his game again. He sank another ball - only another two, and then the game would be finished and they could go back to Sam, where Jason would, hopefully, be too polite to continue this conversation.

"I'm not sure what you're accusing me of," he said, "but you can just drop it. Nothing between Sam and me is up for negotiation." He potted another ball. Just one more and then the black.

"I'm accusing you of keeping Sam in a life he hates," said Jason, clearly, as if speaking to an idiot. "I'm accusing you of stopping Sam from achieving what he wants - what he's always wanted, and, I guess, I'm accusing you of being a bad brother. That clear enough for you?"

Dean laughed again, and he saw Sam turn around at the sound and give him a suspicious look. He potted his last ball, leaving him in a great position to take out the black. "Well, that told me," he said. He could see Jason getting infuriated that he wasn't being taken seriously, and paused to take his shot, sinking the black easily before straightening up. "All your information on Sam is two years out of date," he said, "and you really have no idea what he wants anymore." Not that Dean did either, really, but that was nothing new. Sam had always been a bit of a mystery to him.

"And," he added, as he put down his cue and Jason turned to go back to the table, "I'm an awesome brother," unless you counted the incest thing, "but you're a really crappy friend."

Jason glared at him, but Dean ignored it. He went back to the table, grinned at Sam and said, "Well, I won, so I guess drinks are on me. Who wants another?"

Sam gave him a careful look - _what did you do now?_ but Dean refused to acknowledge it.

 

 

****

 

 

Tony and Angela left a couple of hours later, but Jason and Sam looked set to stay until they got chucked out, descending into the level of drunkeness where they were talking almost complete crap. Dean stopped listening to the conversation and started to wonder what he was being paid back for, karmically, because this evening had really sucked. He wasn't even able to get properly wasted, because one of them at least had to stay slightly sober in case of unexpected evil, and besides, he'd only end up beating the crap out of Jason's smug, annoying face, and then Sam would get pissy, and probably not let Dean fuck him later, and then the evening would be a total bust.

When they did, finally, leave the bar, Jason came with them to the motel, because he was staying there as well. He and his father were on their way to Colorado for his sister's wedding and, of course, they'd had to choose the exact motel as Sam and Dean to stay in, and the same bar to meet up with his friends. Dean began to seriously consider that maybe this was payback for the whole incest thing, because, damnit, he'd been horny all evening and now Sam was talking about Jason coming back to their motel room for a bit. Well, at least Dean could head that one off at the pass.

"Not sure that would be a good idea, Sammy," he said. Sam frowned at him, obviously thinking he was just being a killjoy, so Dean gave him a significant look and said, "we left it in kinda a mess."

He could see the moment that Sam remembered the weapons, demonology books and salt lines scattered around their room. Not to mention Dean's bed, which they'd left sex-rumpled and with the lube still sitting on the bedside table.

"Oh, right," he said.

"I can cope with a bit of a mess," said Jason, "Do you remember what Pat and Karl's room was like?" He grinned at Sam, and Sam laughed slightly, and Dean clenched his fists because who the fuck were Pat and Karl? "And we can't go back to my room," continued Jason, "My Dad will be asleep by now."

"Oh," said Sam, looking so disappointed and sad that Dean found himself offering an alternative before he'd even had time to think about it.

"Well, we could sit on the Impala for a bit. It's a nice night." Then he started mentally kicking himself. The last thing he wanted was Jason sitting on his baby, especially not when it meant it would be even longer before he got to take advantage of slightly tipsy Sam. The smile Sam gave him almost made it worth it though.

"I think there's a six-pack in our room," said Jason. "I'll creep in and get it." He headed across the parking lot to his room, and Sam watched him for a moment, then turned to Dean, still smiling.

"Thanks," he said, and Dean shrugged one shoulder. "I know you're bored sick," he said, "You don't have to hang out with us, you know."

Dean had to choke back a laugh at that, because last time he let Sam out of his sight, he ended up dead and no way is Dean going to go through that again. He's got nothing left to make a deal with, after all. Besides, who knew what kind of poison that little shit would pour in Sam's ear if Dean left them alone?

"I'm staying," he said, and Sam gave him a careful look that said he saw straight through him, which Dean ignored. Jason came back before Sam could call him on it, empty-handed and looking worried.

"My Dad's not there," he said. "He said he was going to get an early night, because driving all day was taking it out of him, but he's not there."

Dean exchanged glances with Sam, noted the look of 'oh god, please, don't let this happen to my friend' and tried to reassure Sam that it was probably nothing.

"Maybe he went for a late night walk," he suggested.

Jason snorted. "Not likely. He wouldn't walk anywhere after dark even in our own neighbourhood, definitely not around here."

Dean felt rather than heard Sam's sigh. "Well, maybe there's something to explain this in the room," he said, and Dean followed him back across the parking lot, hoping like hell that Jason was just being a tool, and his Dad was just in the bathroom or something. He was not in the mood for this shit tonight.

Sam turned the light on, and Dean took a quick glance round the room. Nothing looked out of place, from what he could tell - two bags were half open on the floor and one of the beds was messed up as if someone had been sleeping in it but apart from that, it looked like the maids had just left.

"What was he doing when you left?" he asked, checking in the bathroom.

"He was just watching TV," said Jason, and there was a note of panic in his voice that Dean didn't want to hear, because he didn't like this guy. He didn't want to feel sorry for him.

"And your car's still here, right?" said Sam.

"Yeah," said Jason. "Hasn't moved."

The bathroom was as tidy as the main room, with all the little bottles of shampoo and conditioner still lined up along the sink. Dean checked in the shower, but there was nothing.

"Dean," said Sam, and Dean could hear from his voice that he'd found something bad. He came out of the bathroom and Sam met his eyes, looking depressed and a little resigned. "Sulphur along the window ledge," he said. Dean sighed and wondered why things were never easy for them.

"What?" said Jason, frowning. "Sulphur? What the hell?"

Sam turned to look at him, and Dean knew without looking that he was wearing his 'oh god I'm so sorry, this is probably my fault' face. "Jason..." he started, and then trailed off, clearly at a loss for what to say.

"What?" said Jason, sounding irate. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," said Dean, quickly. There was no need for Jason to get involved in this. "You should just stay here. Keep the door looked and don't let anybody in. We'll find your dad."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Jason, "If you think you know where he is, I'm coming too." He fixed his eyes on Sam then, and Dean could see Sam crumbling. "What's going on, Sam?"

Sam's jaw clenched and Dean could almost see his mental fight between telling Jason the truth and letting him retain his innocence.

"This is gonna sound nuts," he said, after a moment. Dean exhaled slowly. There was no way telling Jason was going to end well, and he really didn't want to have to deal with Sam being pissy for the next few weeks because he'd come out as a freak to one of his precious Stanford friends and been rejected. "Just...trust me, okay? You know me - I wouldn't mess about with you over something like this." Looked like Dean wasn't going to get much choice. "Your Dad...he's in trouble, but we should be able to help him." He threw a desperate glance at Dean, and Dean nodded as reassuringly as possible, trying not to think about how many times they were too late to do more than exorcise a demon and then watch the host die of their injuries. "Dean's right though - you should just stay here and let us..."

"No," interrupted Jason, "whatever you think is going on, he's my Dad. I'm going to help."

"That's not really a good idea," said Dean, crossing over to the window and glancing out. The parking lot was still empty, but he suddenly felt twitchy. Bad enough having to go on a hunt now, when he'd been planning to finally get Sam alone and away from his friend so that he could fuck him into forgetting about how much he missed Stanford, without having a tag-a-long civilian.

"Yeah," agreed Sam. "Better just let us find him. We've got experience with this sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?" said Jason, slowly, his eyes narrowing. "What are you talking about, Sam? You think you know something, but you're not telling me...come on, man. This is my Dad." He suddenly sounded very lost, and Dean clenched his fist again.

"It's..." started Sam, then stopped, apparently at a loss for words, and Dean could see Jason about to lose patience just as Sam took a deep breath and went for it. "We've been tracking a group of demons, and earlier today we exorcised three of them. We thought that was all there was, but there must have been at least one more, and it's possessed your Dad."

Jason just stared at him for a full minute, then he made an angry noise of frustration deep in his throat. "Sam, this is a really bad time to choose for a practical joke."

"I'm not joking," said Sam, "I'm sorry, Jason, but you said yourself that there's no way your Dad would go for a walk after dark, not unless he wasn't in control any more. Demons can slip into your mind and just take over like that, and the only sign they've done it is sulphur traces." He gestured at the window, and Jason glanced over at it, frowning slightly. "But they usually need an in - something you're worried or stressing about."

"Sam," said Jason, "this is ridiculous." But he didn't sound very sure, and he was giving Sam the look that Dean had seen too many times before - _Oh God, what if it's true?_

"Was your Dad stressed about something?" asked Sam, his eyes wide and earnest, and Jason looked at him for a very long time before swallowing and looking away.

"My sister's wedding is going to be the first time he's seen my Mom since the divorce," he said, very quietly. "He didn't want to upset my sister by making a scene."

"Yeah," said Dean, "that'll do it." Jason glared at his insensitive tone, but Dean figured that if he was angry, at least he wasn't worrying. He turned back to the dark parking lot outside. Was there a man-shaped shadow underneath that tree, or was it just his imagination?

"Sam," said Jason, obviously trying to sound sane and reasonable, but really just sounding as if he was pleading. "You can't honestly expect me to believe this bullshit."

"Sorry," said Sam, sounding tired again, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Dean clenched his fists against the compulsion to make it all better. "This is my fault."

Dean wasn't having that. "Don't be an idiot," he snapped.

Sam turned on him. "Come on, Dean," he said, his voice raising with anger, "You really think it's just a coincidence that it came after my friend's father, when it had a whole town full of people to choose from?"

Dean took a deep breath. "It's not your fault," he said. "How were we to know there'd be another one?"

"We should have..." started Sam, but Dean didn't wait around to hear what they should have done.

"We should have guessed? We should have just known? We should have checked the demon yellow pages to see if there was another one in the area?" Sam gritted his teeth with annoyance. "Besides," added Dean, "if it did pick Jason's dad on purpose, that's the good news."

"How is that good news?!" exclaimed Jason.

"It means it'll probably still be around so it can taunt us," pointed out Dean. "If it was just looking for any host, it could be halfway to Tijuana by now, and we'll never be able to find him."

"Oh God," said Jason, and sat down suddenly on the bed. "You're crazy. You're both crazy."

Sam gave a bitter laugh. "Yeah," he agreed. Dean snorted and looked back out the window. Had that shadow moved?

"You know what?" said Jason. "I'm just going to call the cops." He made a move towards his cell phone.

"No, you're not," contradicted Dean.

"Yeah," agreed Sam, "that's not a good idea." Jason let go off his phone with a sigh and rubbed his hands over his face. "Besides," added Sam, "they won't do anything till he's been gone twenty four hours anyway."

"They won't do anything then, either," pointed out Dean, "except get themselves killed." The shadow definitely moved then, and Dean realised he had been right. It was a man, tucked far into the tree's shadow. "Sam, you got any holy water on you?"

Sam patted down his hoodie. "No," he said, sounding slightly worried.

"And I'm betting you don't happen to have a huge box of salt in one of those bags," he said to Jason, not taking his eyes off the dark figure.

"What?" said Jason. "No! Why would I have salt?"

"Okay," said Dean, ignoring his question, and thinking fast. "Sam, we need to get to our room, fast. I think he's out there, and we're going to need more than motel shampoo to take him on."

"My Dad's out there?" said Jason, standing up and heading for the door.

Sam caught his arm and held him back from opening it. "He's not your Dad at the moment," he said, "and he won't hesitate to hurt you."

"Especially if he thinks it'll piss us off," added Dean. He looked outside again at the figure, then judged the distance down to their room. "Okay, we're going to go together, and we're going to go fast. We're not going to stop or hesitate until we're on the other side of our motel door, right?" He was trying to remember if their salt lines were still intact, but it seemed unlikely either of them would have disturbed them.

"Jesus," said Jason, "You're kinda bossy."

Sam laughed. "And short," he pointed out. Dean glared at him, and Sam grinned back, unrepentantly.

They had barely made it out of the door before the figure started moving. Dean pulled their room key out of his pocket and headed down the line of rooms as fast as he could. Behind him, Sam was still holding Jason's arm, pushing him along and glancing nervously over his shoulder.

"Dean," he said warningly.

"I know," said Dean, irritated. Did Sam think he was blind? The figure came into the lights of the parking lot, a middle-aged man with grey streaked through his black hair, and a stomach that spoke of too much time spent sitting on the couch drinking beer.

"Jason," it called out, "There you are. I was coming to find you - it's pretty late."

Dean glanced back to see that Jason had stopped moving, and was looking at his Dad.

"Keep moving," he hissed at him. Sam tugged on his arm.

"It's my Dad," said Jason. Dean glanced at the guy, who was closer now - a lot closer than Dean was comfortable with when he had no weapons that would have any real effect.

"It's not," insisted Sam, using all his strength to get Jason moving. Dean reached their motel room door and stuck the key in, trying not to fumble.

"Jason? Where are you going?" said the demon. "It's late, and we've got a long drive tomorrow. Don't you think it's time for bed?"

Dean got the door open at about the same time that Jason broke out of Sam's grip. "Jesus," he said, "You can stop this game now. It's not funny." He took a step towards the thing inhabiting his father and Dean saw a glimpse of triumph in its eyes.

"Christo," said Sam, sounding slightly desperate, and the demon flinched back, its eyes turning black. Jason gasped and stopped moving. Sam took his surprise as an opportunity, and dragged him into their room, over the saltline, with Dean close behind him.

Dean turned to see that the demon had given up its pretence completely, and was now moving with unholy grace towards the door, stalking in a way that looked completely alien to the body it inhabited. Dean grinned at it with satisfaction. "Better luck next time," he said.

The demon laughed. "You Winchesters - always so cocky. What exactly are you going to do now? Cower in a motel room and hope I just decide to go back to hell on my own?"

He had a point, unfortunately - unless Sam could come up with a cunning plan, they were trapped for the foreseeable future. Still, no way he was going to just let the demon taunt him without fighting back. "Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino qui fertis super caelum caeli ad Orientem."

The demon hissed at him, its eyes black again and then, not entirely surprisingly, ran away. Dean watched it go, and noted that it paused again once it was far enough away for an exorcism to be ineffective. He sighed. This was shaping up to be a very long and annoying night, and the chance that he would be able to get Sam naked and in his arms during it was rapidly getting smaller. He stepped away from the door and shut it behind him.

"What the hell?!" said Jason in a very strained voice. Dean turned to see him looking around the room with a shocked and slightly horrified expression. He had to admit that it was a mess, even for them. Tracking down the demons in the area had taken a lot of research, and there were autopsy photos and crime scene reports spread out over the desk, mixed up with Dad's journal, copies of symbols that might work against them and all the books they had in the trunk about exorcism. Sam's bed was still covered with the weapons they'd dumped there after getting back from the job, guns and knives carelessly discarded beside holy water bottles and crucifixes. Dean's bed, on the other hand, was a mess for a different reason. When they'd come in from the hunt, they'd both been running high on adrenaline, and Dean had long ago discovered that the best way to blow off excess energy was a good fuck.

"Um," said Sam, "We did say earlier that it was a bit of a mess." Jason looked at him with wide eyes. Sam shrugged with embarrassment, and Dean thought with sudden fierceness that he shouldn't have to apologise for how their lives were, not when they were about to save Jason's father's life. _Course,_ pointed out an annoying voice in his head, _if it wasn't for you, his life wouldn't be in danger in the first place._ Dean ignored it.

"How much holy water do we have left?" he asked Sam. Sam went to check the bottles and Jason made a strange, almost pained noise.

"Oh, god," he said, "this is insane." He moved to sit down on Dean's bed, which was the closest to the door, then actually looked at it and blinked. "Someone had sex in this bed," he said, slightly numbly. Dean wondered if his brain was beginning to rebel under too much stress.

"No shit, Sherlock," he said. Sam had glanced up guiltily at Jason's comment, and turned slightly pink.

"Um," he said, then in a rush, "That was Dean. He's kinda a horndog. He was fucking the receptionist - he'll fuck anything."

Dean snorted and tried not to feel rejected. Of course Sam wasn't going to tell his friend that it had been both of them - the guy was having to deal with enough without adding incest in as well. Jason was now looking at him with a look that seemed to say, _well, what more can be expected of you?_ Dean scowled at him.

"At least I get laid more than once a decade," he pointed out, then abandoned the conversation when Sam's eyes narrowed in annoyance, and instead glanced out the window, where he could see the demon watching their room. He waved at it. The demon waved back with a shit-eating grin. _Crap. It's got a plan._

"We've got half a bottle of holy water," said Sam.

Dean turned away from the window. "Well, whatever the plan is, we're going to need more than that," he said. Sam nodded with resignation, and went into the bathroom to fill the sink.

Jason immediately turned to Dean and glared at him. Dean blinked in surprise. "Stop it," he hissed.

"What?" said Dean, completely confused. What had he done now? Before Jason could reply, Sam came back into the room to get a crucifix. He glanced at Jason and then gave him his best sympathetic smile.

"This must be really freaking you out," he said. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," said Dean again, wondering if Sam would ever hear the truth behind it. He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face, crossing to the desk to pick up the journal.

He felt Jason's glare on him again, but ignored it and after a moment, Jason turned back to Sam, his face relaxing into a shaky smile. "It's a bit crazy," he agreed, "but as long as I keep telling myself that it's just a crazy nightmare, I'll be okay."

Sam laughed bitterly. "Yeah, that's what I've been telling myself for most of my life." Dean clenched his jaw and glared down at the journal, wishing there was something - anything he could do to take the pain out of Sam's voice.

"Most of your life?" repeated Jason. He looked around the room again, as if seeing it for the first time. "Sam...how exactly do you know about this?"

Dean flipped a page slightly more violently than was necessary. "It's...kinda the family business," said Sam. He didn't sound upset about it, really, just slightly amused, although Dean wasn't sure about what.

"Jesus," said Jason. "No wonder you never talked about your family." Sam laughed at that, and Dean gritted his teeth.

"There was a bit more to it than that," said Sam, but he didn't elaborate, and Dean was suddenly sick of this whole conversation, of having someone with them who was asking questions when they should just be getting on with it.

"We need a plan," he said abruptly. Sam nodded seriously and looked at him as if he'd have all the answers, like he used to when they were kids.

"Well, you guys have done this before, right? What do you usually do?" said Jason, looking at Sam, and Dean noticed he was giving Sam a similar look to the one Sam was giving him.

Sam sighed. "Usually," he said, tiredly, "they don't know we're after them, and we managed to trap them so we can exorcise them." _And_ , added Dean silently, _we work on the basis that we'll try not to hurt the host too much, but that a few bruises and broken bones hurt a lot less than not being in control of your own body while it slaughters people, but I'm willing to bet that in this case, we're going to have to treat him like fucking china._

"We'll work something out," said Dean, trying to sound in control. "He's going to want to kill us, so we have bait, at least."

"Oh, good," said Jason, shakily and with an edge of venom. "That's really reassuring."

Sam snorted and went back into the bathroom, and after a moment, Dean heard his voice murmuring Latin quietly, "Exorcizo te creature acquae in nomine Deo, patris omnipotentis et in virtute Spiritu Sancti."

Jason took the opportunity to glare at Dean again but he ignored it, concentrating on the journal. The truth was, he had no idea what they were going to do. Usually, they weren't the ones trapped like this, unable to leave the protection of the saltlines and corner the demon properly because he was watching and it would only take him a thought to have them at his mercy. How could they manoeuvre him so that he was the one caught and unable to get away while they performed an exorcism? He knew the journal backwards though, and he already knew there was nothing in it that was going to help. Dad had never been stupid enough to get caught like this.

Sam came back into the room again for the empty bottles, then started to fill them up from the sink full of holy water. Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes, then put down the journal and went back to the window. The demon was still out there, although it'd come closer to the room now, and...fuck. "That bastard!"

Sam rushed out of the bathroom. "What?"

"It's fucking with my car!" Dean's hands curled into fists. The demon was crouching down by the trunk, doing something Dean couldn't see. Dean felt anger sweep through him, closely followed by frustration and a strange sense of violation. There was nothing he could do to stop it at the moment and that was probably the worst thing. He turned away with a glare that he directed at Jason, for no other reason than that he was here, and he'd been pissing him off, and he wasn't going to take this out on Sam. Jason flinched away from him.

"Calm down, Dean," said Sam, coming to look at the window as well. His hand brushed against Dean's, but Dean couldn't tell if it was on purpose or not. "It's opened the trunk," he added, and Dean spun around to see, not sure which was worse - watching the demon molest his car, or not watching and imagining it. The demon was rummaging through their stuff now, and Dean gritted his teeth.

"I'm going to take it apart," he promised. "I'm going to make it wish it'd never been spawned."

"Hey," protested Jason, "That's my Dad. Or at least, it's partly my Dad."

Dean ignored him. The demon seemed to have found what it was looking for, and it straightened up, and then shut the trunk.

"What's it got?" said Sam, frowning.

Dean squinted, trying to see. "It's a knife," he suddenly realised, his mouth going dry.

"Shit," breathed Sam. "and it's coming over here."

"Get the holy water," said Dean, but Sam was already moving, handing a bottle to Jason and then grabbing a knife and a gun from his bed and tucking them away on his person.

"You'll be okay if you stay behind the saltlines," he told him, "but if anything happens, holy water will harm the demon, but not your Dad."

"Right," said Jason, sounding a bit faint. Sam gave him a reassuring smile, and then came back towards Dean, handing him another bottle, as well as a gun.

"Wait," said Jason, "Why do you two have weapons? Surely that would hurt my Dad?"

"Yeah," agreed Dean, "Hopefully it won't come to it, but if it's a choice between hurting your Dad, or letting him hurt Sammy..." he let his voice trail off. The demon was right outside the door now. It grinned at Dean through the window, looking far too smug, then knocked at the door with a jaunty rhythm. Dean exchanged a glance with Sam, then opened the door.

"Hi!" said the demon, grinning cheerfully. It had the knife held to Jason's father's throat. _Oh man,_ thought Dean, _this is not going to be good._ "I've got a proposal," said the demon.

"We're not interested," said Dean flatly. "Regna terrae, cantate Deo..."

"I wouldn't do that," said the demon. It pressed the knife closer to his neck so that there was a thin line of blood welling up. Dean stopped the exorcism, feeling helpless and hating it. They really needed a plan, and they needed a good one - this bastard was too sharp for Dean's tastes.

"Here's the deal," said the demon, smiling ferally when both Dean and Sam flinched at the word 'deal'. It looked very out of place on the round, middle-aged face. "I'll let this body go, unharmed, and leave this town as fast as I can, without even killing anyone you know."

"And what do you want from us?" prompted Sam when it paused. Dean hadn't been going to ask - he didn't want to know, he just wanted the fucker dead. Nothing it wanted was going to be something he was prepare to give.

"Well," said the demon, still grinning and staring at Dean as if he was the one who had spoken, "I'm going to need a body to get out of here. I thought you might like to volunteer, Sammy."

"No way," said Dean and started to shut the door.

"Or," said the demon, raising its voice, "I'll slit this guy's throat, then go after your other friends. Tony, was it? And Angela?"

Dean paused with the door half-shut and hesitated for a moment, then Sam tore the door out of his grasp, flinging it open.

"Don't even think about it," he growled.

The demon was still grinning. "All you have to do is step over the line, take off that medallion and let me in. Then all your friends will be safe."

"Don't even think about it," said Dean, grabbing Sam's arm, in sudden terror. It was just exactly the kind of stupid stunt Sam would pull. Sam turned to look at him with a rueful smile and a defeated look in his eyes.

"What else can we do?"

"What?" said Dean, "We're Winchesters! We're not about to roll over just because a demon tells us to." He turned back to the demon. "You can take your 'proposal' and shove it up your ass."

The demon sighed dramatically. "I thought you boys were all about helping people? you really going to watch me murder his father in front of him?" He nodded at Jason, who was hanging back, watching the scene with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"You're not having my brother," said Dean with utter conviction. There was no way he was going to let some two-bit demon have Sam, not after he'd dragged him back from death.

"Well, then..." said the demon, and he pulled the knife away from his throat. Before Dean could register what it was doing, it'd plunged it, hilt-deep into Jason's father's hand. Jason gave a choked cry. "Next time it's his throat." The demon looked at Sam, "You really gonna let me do this?"

Sam took a step forward, and Dean caught his arm and pushed him back. "Don't even think about it!" he said, infuriated. How could Sam even think about leaving him like this?

The demon tutted. "You'd think with all your Daddy issues, you wouldn't be so quick to condemn someone else's to death." Dean glared at it because, damnit, the thing had a point. Jason might be a shit, but he didn't deserve to watch his father die like that.

"Fine," he said, after a moment, "You can take me then, but you're not having Sammy."

The demon laughed. "Always so quick to sacrifice yourself."

"Dean!" hissed Sam, sounding outraged. Dean turned to look at him, noting the stress lines showing on his forehead, and the desperate, panicked look in his eyes.

"I'm as good as dead anyway," he pointed out. What did it matter if he spent the last few months of his life being possessed, so long as Sam was safe? It wasn't like he was going to be using the time for anything particularly important.

"And that's why you won't do," said the demon. Dean glared at him, and it smirked. "I don't want another demon's sloppy seconds. It's Sam, or no one."

"No one then," gritted Dean, "you're not touching him." He started to shut the door again, but Sam stopped him.

"Ah," said the demon, smugly, "but it's not your choice, is it?" Sam met Dean's eyes, and he could see the resolution in them, just like the night he'd had to shoot Madison.

"No," he said, wishing his voice sounded less desperate. This wasn't happening - this couldn't happen. There was no way Sam would do this to him.

"I have to," said Sam, softly. He pulled the door out of Dean's grip entirely, while Dean felt himself freeze up. Sam pulled off the medallion that he'd worn night and day since Bobby had given it to them and held it out to Dean. Dean refused to take it.

"No," he said again, trying to put every bit of force he had into his voice. Sam just sighed.

"You'll get me back," he said with confidence. "You did last time." Dean would have laughed if he hadn't felt so starkly numb. Last time - when Dean had chased Sam halfway across the country for over a week, not knowing if he'd ever find his brother again, getting beaten and shot and then performed that final, desperate exorcism, when they'd come so close to failing, to losing Sam completely. No way he ever wanted to go through that again.

"Oh, how touching," sighed the demon. "Are you going to kiss goodbye? I think I'd like to see that. I'm sure Jason would too."

Dean turned and glared at it, feeling his rage rise up and drown the numb feeling of helplessness. No way was he just going to let Sam throw his life away like this.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sam tucked his charm into Dean's jacket pocket and then took a step towards the salt line. Dean reacted instantly, pulling him back with one hand and practically throwing him into the room, while at the same time throwing his holy water at the demon as quickly as he could. Not quite quick enough - the demon had time to start cutting Jason's father's throat before the holy water made it scream and drop the knife, hands raised to its face. Dean tackled it to the ground, and punched it as hard as he could, ignoring Jason's shout of horror behind him. This demon had made it personal, and suddenly Dean didn't give a flying fuck for how many bruises Jason Senior had. The demon passed out after two swift hits to the head, and Dean hauled himself off it and turned to see Jason giving him a look that would peel wallpaper.

It was Sam who spoke though. "Dean..." He sounded frustrated and weary, and Dean wasn't in the mood for any of that shit, so he interrupted him before he could start in on any of his emo crap.

"Get some rope," he said. "I want to exorcise this fucker before it tries any more shit."

Sam sighed, but went back inside the room without comment. Dean took the chance to look down at the unconscious body in front of him. He was going to have a hell of a set of bruises when he woke up, and the stab wound in his hand looked nasty, but it was his throat that worried Dean. It wasn't bleeding much, but Dean couldn't see how deep it was, and how much more it was likely to bleed once the demon was exorcised. He stood up, and then glanced at Jason, who was still glaring at him furiously.

"Give me a hand," he said. "We need to get him inside before someone sees us and decides to call the cops."

Jason's look didn't change. "I'm not following your orders," he said, his voice thick with anger. "Especially not after you beat my father unconscious." Dean stared at him for a moment in disbelief, then turned away. Some fights weren't worth having, especially not when he had so many other things to worry about, like getting the demon out of Jason's father and back into hell where it belonged, and then finally getting Sam on his own, so that he could fuck him into insensibility for even thinking about giving in to a demon.

Dean pulled the limp body up onto his shoulders with a grunt, wondering why he always ended up doing all the heavy lifting. He scrubbed away the salt line with one toe, then carried him into the room and dropped him down onto his bed. Sam was kneeling on the floor, doing something with masking tape.

"This ain't the time for arts and crafts, Sammy," he said, rolling his shoulders and hoping he hadn't fucked his back too much.

"Devil's Trap," said Sam, shortly. Obviously, he was pissed at Dean. Well, hell, he was alive and unpossessed - Dean could take a bit of misdirected anger. Besides, angry sex was pretty much the best way Dean could think of to end this truly shitty night.

Jason stepped close to the bed, looking down at his father's body with horror and disbelief.

"Don't get too close," warned Dean, "If he wakes up before Sam's done, he's going to try and kill us."

Jason pretty much ignored him, bending down to take a closer look at his father's throat. "Why isn't it bleeding more?"

"Demons keep their host body alive while they're still in it," said Dean, bluntly. "It won't start bleeding properly until we exorcise it."

"And what," said Jason, "you're just going to let him bleed out then?" His eyes flashed at Dean, and Dean found himself wondering exactly how he'd managed to piss off Jason so much in so short a time.

"It doesn't look deep enough to be a problem before an ambulance can get here," said Dean, trying to sound reassuring. _He's scared and freaked out,_ he reminded himself. _Don't make it worse by being an asshole, or Sam will be too pissed with you for any kind of sex._

"Oh," said Jason, snorting, "that's real reassuring, thank you."

"We're doing the best we can for him," said Sam, from the carpet where he was laying out the final sections of the Devil's Trap. He sounded tired and a lot older than he was, and Dean felt his throat clench up. Everything this evening seemed to be tailor-made to show him how much Sam shouldn't be here, living this life. _Well, when I'm dead, he can go back to 'normal' and leave all this behind._

Sam straightened up. "Okay, it's ready." Dean cast a careful eye over it, looking for a mistake that would make a difference between keeping the demon trapped and having him making a skipping rope out of their entrails. It looked pretty perfect though - Sam was always a lot better at these things that Dean was.

"Time to rumble," he said, and turned back to the bed, just in time to see the demon jump up, grab Jason's hand and twist it up behind his back with a sharp cracking noise than Dean recognised as a bone breaking. Jason gave a short scream of pain.

"Oh, this is much better," purred the demon, taking in the room with a glance. "This way I get both of you." _Shit, shit, shit,_ thought Dean frantically. Behind him, he heard Sam move, but not much - only a step. The demon's eyes narrowed slightly with annoyance and Dean glanced round to see that Sam had stepped into the centre of the devil's trap. Something in his chest relaxed - Sam was safe, at least for now and as long as he didn't do anything stupid.

The demon yanked on Jason's arm again, and Jason made another pain-filled noise. "I'll just have to start with your brother, then," it said, and suddenly Dean was flying backwards into the wall, hitting it with a shock he could feel all down his back. _Oh, man, I wish this wasn't so familiar,_ he thought as memories of the last time he was pinned against a wall by a demon rushed through his mind.

The force holding him against the wall felt like a truck, crushing his chest and making it hard to speak, but he managed to grunt out, "Don't move, Sammy."

"Like you would, you mean?" taunted the demon. Confident that he had control of the situation, it dropped Jason, who collapsed onto the floor at its feet. "Let's see, shall we start with the traditional?" There was a tearing pain in Dean's chest, as if nails were being driven into his lungs. He coughed, unable to stop himself, as breathing became even more difficult, and he could taste blood in his mouth. Fuck, this was not good.

"Dean!" yelled, Sam, but he didn't move, to Dean's relief. _Don't move_ he thought, desperately. _Don't even think about it._

"Dad," gasped Jason, from the floor, "Dad, please, don't," and that felt _way_ too fucking familiar, feeling blood run down his chest, soaking into his shirt, to the sound of begging. Dean looked up and met Sam's horrified eyes as he stood, helpless, in the devil's trap. He didn't have the strength to say anything, but he fixed Sam with a look that he hoped conveyed _don't you dare do anything stupid_.

The demon laughed. "Sorry, kid," it said with a sneer, "your Dad's not really in a position to stop me." It turned its attention back to Dean and the nails raked down, across his heart. Dean had to concentrate really hard on not crying out in pain, but he was damned if he was going to give the demon that kind of satisfaction. Well, he was already damned, of course, but that didn't mean he had to play the demon's game. He tried to struggle against the force keeping him splayed out on the wall, but it was futile.

"You uncomfortable?" grinned the demon, taking its attention off Jason again. "And here I thought you liked being tied down." Dean gritted his teeth. The last thing he needed was the demon mouthing off about his sexual preferences as if it was any of its business.

"Dean," said Sam again, and his voice was wavering with worry. That wasn't right - he shouldn't be worried. Dean tried to grin at him - _I'm fine, nothing wrong, don't get your panties in a twist_ \- but it felt wrong on his face, like he'd forgotten some key element of how to smile.

"Dad," said Jason again, his voice breaking in the middle.

"Jesus, you're slow," said the demon, "no wonder Daddy always preferred your sister." It drew back a foot to kick Jason, but before it landed, Jason had thrown an entire bottle of holy water in its face. Sam started moving instantly, even as the weight on Dean's chest suddenly fell away so that he fell heavily to the floor. Sam grabbed the demon's arm and spun it round, throwing it into the wall. Dean had landed by the edge of the devil's trap, and he pulled himself into a sitting position and pulled up some of the masking tape.

"Sammy," he said, and Sam glanced over at him, taking in the broken edge of the devil's trap for a moment before meeting Dean's eyes with a look of understanding. He grabbed the demon's arm again and pulled him round, into the devil's trap. The demon fell to the floor right in the centre, and Dean replaced the masking tape as fast as he could, trying to put it back exactly where he'd pulled it up from. The demon was on its feet almost before he'd finished and threw itself at Sam, only to be brought to a sudden stop at the edge of the design.

"Oh, thank fuck," gasped Dean, and lay back down again, clutching at the pain in his chest.

"Jesus, Dean," said Sam, rushing round to kneel at his side. "Are you okay?" That had to be one of the stupidest questions Sam had asked in a long time, so Dean just rolled his eyes at him.

"Been better," he admitted. "You need to exorcise that fucker, you need to do it right now, before anything else goes wrong." Sam glanced over at the demon, who was glowering impotently at them from inside the devil's trap.

"I should call an ambulance first," said Sam. "Who knows how much time he'll have afterwards?"

Dean choked a laugh out, and forced himself to sit up. "Great idea, genius," he said, "except we need to be well away from here before the ambulance gets here, cos the first thing they'll do when they see this mess is call the police."

"Dean," said Sam, sounding frustrated, "You're going to need a hospital as well."

"No way," was Dean's immediate response to that. He'd had enough of hospitals to last him a lifetime. "You can just patch me up later."

"You probably have internal bleeding," pointed out Sam. "Last time..." his voice faltered for a moment. "Last time, they said you had damage to your kidneys and liver. I can't just patch that up."

Dean gritted his teeth and looked away from Sam's anxious eyes because _fuck_ that wasn't something he wanted to think about, no matter how similar parts of this evening had been. Sam had a point though, annoying as it was. He looked round the room again, at the weapons and the research spread everywhere, the demon encased in the devil's trap, crouching down and saying something Dean couldn't hear to Jason, who was staring at it with horrified eyes, still cradling his broken arm.

"Well, you'll need to clear some of this crap up first then," he said. Sam looked around and his eyes darkened with anger when he saw the demon talking to Jason.

"Hey," he said angrily, "leave him alone!" The demon glanced at him with a grin.

"Just telling him some home truths, Sammy," he said. Sam snorted and stood up, going over to the desk and starting to shove all their bits of paper and books into a bag.

"You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you on the ass," he said. "Don't pay attention to anything it says, Jason. Demons lie."

"Right," said Jason, his voice shaking. "And what about you, Sam? Do you lie as well?"

Sam's hands stopped for a moment, then he spun around and gave Jason a long look. "When I have to," he said, softly. Jason snorted and looked away. Sam sighed and started to gather up all the weapons from around the room, putting them in another of their duffle bags. Dean leant back against the wall cautiously, trying not to put any pressure on his bruises, and feeling slightly sick.

"You know," said the demon conversationally, as Sam took all their bags outside to the car, "you've already ruined him for anything normal. Every dream he had is out of his reach."

Dean glared at it. "Shut up," he growled.

The demon just smiled smugly. "God, we're going to have so much fun with you when you come down to join us. So much pain and emotion, right there under the surface, just waiting to be tapped into."

Dean leaned his head back and shut his eyes and tried to ignore the bastard, but it seemed like he spent every second trying to ignore the inevitability of going to hell, and he couldn't stop the fear building up in him.

"We're going to take you apart," continued the demon. "It's going to be beautiful."

Sam came back into the room, carrying the medical kit, which he dumped on the bed. He glanced at Dean with a slight frown, and Dean tried to smile back, tried to reassure him that everything was fine. Sam didn't look convinced.

"Right," he said. "I'm going to call the paramedics, do the exorcism, then look after your Dad till they get here," he said to Jason. "While I'm doing that, can you pull up all the masking tape? We really don't need them seeing that and asking questions."

Jason nodded, and Dean noticed how pale his face was. His arm was probably hurting like a bitch. Dean tried not to feel like he deserved it, but, damnit, if it wasn't for him, Dean would probably be asleep right now, naked and curled around Sam.

"Wait," Jason said as Sam picked up the crucifix and Dad's journal. "What are we going to tell them?"

"Uh," said Sam, and Dean was annoyed to see him look confused. Surely he knew better than to leave making a cover story up until the last minute?

"We'll say we were attacked by a couple of guys whose faces we didn't really see as we came back from the bar," he cut in. "Don't worry, Sam and I will do most of the talking - we've had experience at this." He paused, and then added, "Oh, and you can't call me or Sam by our real names. We'll have to be..." He thought hard for a moment, trying to remember the names on their current medical insurance, but his brain wasn't working properly.

"Phil and Richard Ballistock," filled in Sam, dialling 911 on his cell.

"What?" exclaimed Jason, as Sam started to give their details to the operator. "Why?"

"We've got the FBI on our tail," said Dean, simply. He wasn't in the mood to pussyfoot around the truth, and besides, maybe that would give Jason a clue as to why Sam wasn't rushing to go back to Stanford. Jason's eyes went wide, and the demon sniggered.

"You boys just aren't on the same level as your father," it said, shaking its head as if disappointed.

Sam glared at it as he hung up the phone. "Still good enough to get you though," he pointed out, and started the exorcism. "Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino qui fertis super caelum caeli ad Orientem. Ecce dabit voci Suae vocem virtutis, tribuite virtutem Deo."

The exorcism went pretty much to plan - there was the usual mysterious wind blowing around, pain-filled cries from the demon, and furniture shaking itself loose from the wall. Jason watched with his eyes wide open - in fact, Dean was pretty damn sure he didn't blink the entire time Sam was speaking. Dean felt a grim sense of satisfaction at that - let him try and tell Sam that this was all bullshit now.

When his father's mouth opened, and a cloud of thick, black smoke rushed out, Jason gasped and flinched backwards. Sam dropped the journal immediately, and grabbed the medicak kit, rushing to the side of Jason's father and pressing a bandage over his neck as quickly as he could. Dean saw red blood soak through it almost immediately. Jason's dad was making horrible choking noises, his back arched in pain.

"It's going to be okay," said Sam to him. "The ambulance is on its way, and that thing is gone. You're going to be okay."

Dean privately thought to himself that that was a bit optimistic, and started to pull up the masking tape closest to him. "Jason," he said, "a little help?" Jason looked at him with eyes that didn't seem to even see him for a minute, then recognition flooded back, and he gave Dean another hate-filled look. _Damn,_ thought Dean, _does this kid only have two emotions?_

Jason didn't say anything to him, but he did help Dean pull up all the tape, balling it up and shoving it in his pocket. Dean took a final glance round the room, but there was nothing in it that the paramedics would want them immediately arrested for. He sighed, and leaned back. Now they just had to hope that they were able to get through the next few hours without the police working out who they were and then get the hell out of Dodge as soon as they could. Given how their luck had gone for the rest of the evening, Dean wasn't ready to place any bets.

When the paramedics arrived, they took one look at the blood spreading out from beneath Sam's fingers, and sprung into action, allowing Sam to sit back and let them take over. They were bundling Jason's father onto a stretcher and into the back of their ambulance just as a second crew arrived for Dean and Jason. Dean kept his answers about how his injuries were caused vague, making out that he was in too much pain and had lost too much blood to think very logically. He didn't have to pretend very hard - now that the adrenaline was leaving his system, he could feel himself crashing. When they loaded his stretcher into the back of the ambulance, Dean waited just long enough to see Sam climb in after it, and then shut his eyes. Losing consciousness seemed like the best plan right now.

****

He woke up in a generic-looking hospital room with Sam sitting in a chair by his bed, looking exhausted. Dean kept his eyes half-shut for a minute, just watching him and wondered if he'd ever looked even half as stressed when he was at college. He spent a long few minutes trying to convince himself that it was only temporary, that Sam would be able to go back to college, find another girl - or even a boy, if that was what he wanted - and be able to live the life he'd spent years dreaming of and working for before...before everything. Dean couldn't stop himself remembering the demon's words though - _You've already ruined him for anything normal. Every dream he had is out of his reach._ Dean found it hard to believe that Sam would be able to just leave this life in ten months and two weeks and a half weeks without looking back. He was too emotionally involved in it now.

_Sam told me once that if he could have any wish, it would be to have a house and a family and to make sure he never ended up like his family._

_I wish you could have had that,_ thought Dean, fervently. _I wish that could have worked out for you._

The door opened, and Dean shut his eyes quickly as Jason came in with his arm in a sling. He wasn't ready to deal with any of Jason's shit right now - pretending to be unconscious was a much better plan. There was a slightly awkward pause, then Jason said, "How is he?" and Dean had to give him points for sounding almost as if he gave a damn.

"He's going to be okay," said Sam. "He was less hurt than I feared. We're just waiting for the anaesthetic to wear off, then he'll wake up." Dean kept his breathing as shallow and even as he could. "How's your Dad?"

There was the scrape of a chair. "He's better," said Jason. "They think he's going to be fine."

"Good," said Sam, "That's good."

Jason gave a shaky half-laugh. "Yeah." He paused and then said, "You know, the whole thing is all beginning to seem like a bad trip."

"I'm sorry," said Sam, softly. "I didn't mean to bring this all down on you." Dean had to fight to stay still at that, wanting nothing more than to grab Sam's shoulders and shake him until he admitted that he wasn't to blame.

"Well, you didn't ask that demon to possess my Dad, right?" said Jason. "God, I can't believe I just said that. A _demon_ was _possessing_ my Dad." _Oh, suck it up, kid,_ thought Dean, uncharitably. _Join the club._

Sam laughed, but it was strained. "Well, hopefully, once we're out of your hair, you'll never have to say it again. Most people never get touched by this stuff."

"I guess I'm just lucky then," said Jason. Sam snorted. There was a pause, and Dean wondered if he should 'wake up', but before he could start the fluttering eyelashes, twitching fingers routine, Jason spoke again. "So, when are you leaving?"

"As soon as Dean wakes up," said Sam. "We've been lucky so far, but the longer we stay here, the more chance there is that one of the policeman will recognise us from the Wanted posters."

"You're really wanted by the FBI?" said Jason, sounding disbelieving, and Dean wondered if he'd thought they'd been lying earlier, but why would they lie about something like that?

"Yeah," said Sam, "there's some confusion about a few murders. Uh, and some other stuff."

"Jesus," said Jason, sounding freaked out again. "So..." he added slowly, "there's no way you can go back to Stanford?"

Sam laughed, sounding honestly surprised. "No, that ship has sailed," he said. "This is what I do now." His matter-of-fact voice felt like knives stabbing in to Dean's conscience. _Every dream he had is out of his reach._

"Well," said Jason, sounding almost desperate, "there are other ways, right? I mean...you have a fake ID, you could settle somewhere and start again. You could come back to Stockton with me - I could help you sort something out. My Dad would help too - you know he always liked you." His voice had turned hopeful and almost pleading, and Dean had to work hard to stop himself giving away his subterfuge by frowning. Why was Jason so keen for Sam to go with him?

"Sorry," said Sam, in a quiet, almost gentle voice. "I can't stop now. People need my help - I'm in this way deeper than I can explain to you. Besides," he added, "I can't leave Dean, and he'll never give up hunting." _Godamnit, Sam,_ thought Dean. This was probably the closest Sam would ever get to being able to reclaim the normal life he wanted so much, and he was turning it down for Dean, who was going to be dead in ten and a half months anyway. Dean wondered if Sam had had one too many head injuries.

"Oh, come on!" said Jason, frustrated and angry. "You can't tell me you're going to stay doing this for _him_! He treats you like crap! He orders you around like you're some kind of servant, he acts as if you're stupid...even the demon told him he was bad for you!" He paused to take a deep breath, and then said, in an earnest voice, "Come back with me Sam...don't let him drag you down with him. You're better than that."

"Jason," said Sam, and it was practically a growl, pent-up anger barely being held back. Dean had to fight the temptation again to open his eyes, and see the look on Sam's face. "You have absolutely no idea what the fuck you're talking about. Dean is the best man I know." Dean felt something warm spread out in his chest at that, while at the same time a thought flashed through his head. _How can you think that when you know so much about me?_ "Almost everything he does is for someone else. He..." Sam's voice broke off suddenly, and then Dean heard him sigh. "I appreciate that you're trying to help me, but I don't need it."

"Sam," said Jason, desperation still colouring his words, then there was a shuffling noise and the unmistakable sound of lips smacking together. Dean's eyes flew open to see Jason pressing Sam back against his chair, mouth firmly pressed against Sam's. Dean felt a cold stab of anger, but before he could get up, haul Jason off Sam and punch him out like he deserved, Sam made a choked noise of shock and pushed Jason away.

"No," he said firmly, then, softer, "I'm sorry, Jason." A dark shadow passed over Jason's face, but he sat back down in his chair without trying anything else, and stared at the floor. Dean shut his eyes again, wondering how Sam would deal with this.

"Do you remember Jackie's birthday party in the second year?" said Jason, suddenly.

"Uh," said Sam, clearly thrown by the non-sequiter. "I don't...wait, was that the one where I drank all that whiskey?"

"Yeah," said Jason, quietly. "You were really, really drunk, and I took you back to sleep it off, and you kissed me."

Dean heard Sam start. "God...I don't remember that at all," he said in a hushed voice.

"I know," said Jason. "You passed out almost immediately afterwards, and in the morning you clearly didn't remember, so I didn't say anything but..." he paused, and his voice grew rough, "I wanted it to happen again, when you did remember. I was...I had a plan." He swallowed, loud enough for Dean to hear. "Then, before I could do anything, you met Jessica."

"Jason..." said Sam, and he sounded so damn sympathetic that Dean wanted to kick him. A minute ago he'd been spitting with rage at Jason and one sob story later, he was all big, puppy eyes, and spilling empathy all over the place.

"Maybe," continued Jason, his words stumbling over each other, "maybe this is our second chance. If you come with me, we could have this, Sam. It could be good." Dean found himself holding his breath for a moment, and had to remind himself to keep breathing so that Sam wouldn't know he was awake. He knew he should want Sam to say yes, to have a normal life, and a relationship that wasn't with his brother, but he couldn't help being selfish and wanting Sam to be with him until the bitter end, even if it made it harder for him. Besides, Jason was asshole, and Sam deserved better.

"Jason..." said Sam again, and then sighed. "I'm really sorry, but I can't. I...I don't think of you like that. And..." he paused for a long moment, and then admitted, "there's someone else."

For one, mad second, Dean was filled with a jealous rage, before he realised Sam meant him. Even though their relationship had crossed that line months ago, it was still very strange to think of himself as Sam's 'someone else'.

Jason gave a bitter laugh. "Yeah, so I heard. I just didn't believe it." Dean tensed.

"What did you hear?" said Sam, in a dangerously calm voice.

There was the scrape of a chair leg and a couple of footsteps across to the window. "It's sick. I can't...how could the Sam I knew do something like this? He must have twisted you somehow...you really should come with me. Away from him, out of his influence, you'd see how wrong it is." Dean wanted to throw something at him, anything to make him stop talking, stop pointing out all the truths Dean already knew but did nothing about.

"What did you hear?" repeated Sam, the edge in his voice more noticeable.

"The demon said that everything I wanted from you, Dean had already taken." _Of course,_ thought Dean, _fucking demons. Always so ready with the truth when they know it will hurt._

He heard Sam stand up then. "I think you should leave," he said in a cold voice that sounded so unlike him that for a moment Dean wasn't sure who was speaking.

"Sam," said Jason again, crossing back across the room, "don't do this."

"Dean has never taken anything from me," said Sam. "He's only ever given me everything. Sometimes, he even lets me give him something back." Dean felt a hand in his hair, and tried not to roll his eyes. Sam was such a girl sometimes. "I really think you should leave," said Sam again. "Tell your Dad that I'm sorry we brought this on him."

There was absolute silence for a moment, then Jason said, "Fine," in a short, bitter voice, and left the room. Sam let out a long breath.

"All right, you big faker," he said, "You can wake up now."

Dean opened his eyes to see Sam looking at him with an affectionate, amused expression, and sighed. Why did he ever think he could fool Sam?

"I take it you heard most of that?"

"Yes," growled Dean, sitting up carefully and trying not to wince. "I suppose you'll get pissy if I beat him up?"

"Yes," said Sam, firmly. "In fact, I'm hoping we'll never see him again."

"Well, I don't suppose I will," said Dean, looking around for his clothes, "but you could use his help after...after I'm gone."

Sam glared at him. "Dean," he said, impatiently, "you're not going anywhere."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," said Dean. His clothes were nowhere to be seen. He really hoped he wasn't going to have to go out to the car in just the hospital robe.

"Dean," said Sam, irritated and fiercely protective, putting one hand on Dean's face and forcing him to meet his gaze. "I'm going to save you." His eyes were steady and so determined that Dean had to look away. He wanted to believe Sam, he really did, but he knew too well that hope was a dangerous thing. After a moment, Sam sighed and let go of Dean's face.

"I'll get you a change of clothes from the car," he said, sounding defeated, and left. Dean leaned back on the bed, still feeling weak from his blood loss and wondered why Sam was so sure he wanted to stay with Dean when he could make him sound so depressed after only a minute of conversation.

****

They left the hospital without seeing Jason again, and Dean let Sam drive without a fight. Something deep in his chest still really hurt, and he didn't have the concentration span necessary to drive. Instead, he leaned against the door and shut his eyes, drifting into an uneasy sleep which was fractured by confused dreams in which Sam looked at him with yellow eyes and tore out his heart, and the crossroads demon licked a sloppy path up Jason's neck and then turned to smile maliciously at Dean.

"I'm going to own every part of you," she whispered.

Dean awoke with a start, his hand automatically flying to rest over his heart, to find that it was dark, and he'd slept most of the day away. They were in a motel parking lot, and Sam was coming out of the reception, spinning a set of keys around his finger. Dean pushed open the car door and got out stiffly, still feeling exhausted despite all the sleep he'd had. Whatever painkillers they'd given him in the hospital had worn off, and he really hoped Sam hadn't finished all the Advil last time he had a migraine.

"Room 23," said Sam, handing him the keys.

"Right," said Dean, turning towards the trunk to get his bag.

Sam stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I'll get the bags, you go open the door."

Dean rolled his eyes at being treated like an invalid, but gave in. After all, if Sam wanted to do all the heavy lifting for a while, who was Dean to argue?

The effort of walking to the room made the pain in his chest burn brighter, and his heartbeat picked up. He rubbed his hand over it, the gaping hole that Sam had left in his dream still seeming too real. He sat down on the edge of one of the beds and Sam sent him a worried glance when he came in, setting their luggage down and rooting out the Advil without needing to be asked.

Dean took it without comment, then sighed and looked round the room. "I've been wanting to get you alone since we arrived at the bar last night," he said, "and now we've finally got a room to ourselves, I'm too fucked up to do anything about it. Typical."

Sam laughed. "Well, you'll just have to go to bed and get some rest," he said, "so that we can take advantage of it in the morning."

Dean nodded. "Good plan." He didn't move though, and after a moment Sam sat next to him on the bed.

"Jason said the demon said you were bad for me," he said, after a quiet moment. Dean didn't respond. "Demons lie," said Sam, firmly.

"I know," said Dean, when it became clear that Sam was waiting for some kind of answer.

Sam put his hand on Dean's shoulder and gave him his most earnest look. "Dean, it was lying." He paused, swallowed nervously and then said, "This is one of the best things that has ever happened to me," and kissed Dean, slow and deep and a lot more gently then either of them were used to, his weight heavy on Dean’s shoulders, keeping him motionless.

Dean wanted to push Sam off and call him a big girl, but then Sam’s fingers were sliding into his hair and his tongue was warm and wet against his lips, flicking into his mouth and drawing out a groan. It was so full of promise, full of everything Sam couldn’t say, the things Dean wouldn’t let him say that Dean found himself surrendering without a fight.

When Sam did pull away, he said, "I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not letting you go either." He had the determined look in his eye again, but this time Dean didn't look away, didn't hide from the reality of it. Sam's hand squeezed his shoulder, and Dean felt the ball of tension that he'd been carrying since they ran into Jason relax.

After a moment, Dean lay back on the bed with a faked sigh. "Next time we go to the drugs store, I'll make sure to buy you tampons," he said, but Sam just laughed at him and stood up.

"Go to sleep, and tomorrow morning, I'll make sure and fuck you hard enough that my manhood is in no doubt."

Dean grinned and let his eyes fall shut.


End file.
